


I'll Cover You

by JBankai89



Series: The Twelve Days of Smutmas [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Slytherin Prejudice, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 12:46:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8980294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBankai89/pseuds/JBankai89
Summary: After a vicious attack, Severus rescues Draco from certain death and takes him to his home to recuperate. As Draco regains his strength, he finds that he feels safer with Severus nearby and is unwilling to go home. At the same time, he begins to feel a pull towards the older man that he never felt before.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Warning: This story contains violence and mild gore. The violent sequence takes place at the beginning of the story, so if you wish to skip it just scroll to the first page break. (I also tinkered with this one more than any of the others so I have no idea if it's any good but if I go over it one more time I might kill something)

Special thanks to Faladrast for the awesome graphic! Check them out on [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/Faladrast-118654891940425/?fref=ts) or at [**http://faladrast.weebly.com/**](http://faladrast.weebly.com/)

* * *

 

I'll Cover You

 

Draco Malfoy had heard tell of _The Christmas Spirit_.

Apparently, it was something that led people to be kinder to one another during the Christmas season. Love thy neighbour, give and receive, or some other such warm and fuzzy rubbish.

Unfortunately, it would seem that such a thing did not apply to the Malfoy name or its descendants—especially in the wake of the war.

 

Draco had been quite lucky that Potter chose to stand up for him and his mother during the Death Eater trials, though the same could not be said for his father, who had been sentenced to life imprisonment. He and his mother had gotten off lightly—forced into the muggle world, their wands snapped, and the Malfoy estates and fortunes confiscated by the Ministry.

In a world Draco knew almost nothing about, with more help from Potter than he'd like to admit, he scrimped and saved through a variety of Muggle Governmental programs, and after five years Draco Malfoy finally resembled something of himself again.

He had refused to allow his exemplary potionmaking skills to go to waste, and he advertised himself as an Herbalist. He was quick to gain a following of oddball muggle clients, all of whom reminded him strangely of Luna Lovegood, and smelt strongly of peyote.

News of his wares soon made their way back to the wizarding world, and soon he was gifted with a number of wizarding clients as well, which he ran by Owl-Order. It was a successful enough business endeavour that he was able to buy a modest house for himself and his mother. It had taken five years, five _miserable_ years, but at last his life finally seemed to be going _right._

 

Until now, that is.

 

Draco wasn't sure what was keeping his innards from falling out. More alarming still was the distinct lack of pain he felt from the grievous stomach wound. The injury was almost numb, and his hands were stained red.

His attackers were dressed in black cloaks, with their hoods drawn up to conceal their identities. Fleetingly, Draco wondered if they were aware of how much they resembled the Dark Lord's followers as they advanced on him; there was a bitter irony to it, one that Draco did not think was wise to comment on. They brandished their wands at him, and Draco staggered back into the cold brickwork, his breathing shallow as he clutched at his stomach.

“Please,” Draco rasped, his breath hitching as he stumbled and slid into a heap at their feet. “I'll—I'll give you whatever you want, just _please_ don't hurt me!”

“What I _want_ is my little sister back!” One of them snarled, “they were finding her body for _weeks_! An eight-year-old girl, and you monsters destroyed her. All of the Death Eaters should have been locked away for good, even junior ones! When we're finished with you, Malfoy, you're gonna _wish_ we'd killed you!”

The one that had spoken lifted his free hand and punched Draco squarely in the face, and he howled in pain when he felt his nose break. Blood dribbled down his face, into his mouth, and he gagged. He hunched forward slightly to spit the mouthful out, and during his moment of distraction the other assailant hit him with another hex, and Draco cried out as his cheek was sliced open in a wide gash.

“Please,” Draco whimpered, “please, stop...” his pleading became more and more feeble as his vision swam and he began to feel faint from the blood loss. Distantly, he heard a sudden, deep voice cry out. A familiar voice, but in his hazy, weakened state, Draco could not place it. His attackers screamed, and Draco tried to focus and find out what was going on, but he moved slowly, as if under water, and it was difficult to clearly discern what exactly was happening. He slid to the ground and the thin snow cover clung to his clothes, but instead of white, it was a deep red.

 

A sudden warmth enveloped him, and Draco's uninjured cheek was pressed against a soft surface—someone's chest. He realized vaguely that someone was holding him, had lifted him up, and he clawed feebly at his rescuer while tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but no words made it past his lips.

“It's all right Draco,” the low voice murmured, “I have you, you're safe.”

The reassurance carried Draco into unconsciousness.

 

~*~

  

When Draco next woke, he immediately let out a soft groan of pain. His stomach muscles ached painfully, and at first, he could not remember why. He was distracted from this particular musing almost at once however when he realized that he was not at home, nor was he in hospital.

He found himself laid up in a large four-poster bed, tucked beneath a thick duvet of midnight blue, In a modestly-sized bedroom with a night stand next to him leaden with a number of potions and a waterglass. There was a wardrobe on the far side of the room, but other than that the room was quite bare.

Draco tried to sit up, but was gifted with a lance of pain through his abdomen, and slumped back against the pillows with a sharp hiss.

At the same moment the bedroom door opened, and in walked a ghost.

“Ah, you're awake,” Severus said, “good. I was concerned that the sleep potion that I administered was a tad too potent for you.” He was carrying a smoking goblet in his hand, and set it down on the night table with the vials.

“You're...not dead.”

“Your forays into the muggle world has gifted you with similar observation skills of a certain boy-hero, are you aware of that, Mr Malfoy?” Severus drawled, arching a brow at him as he drew up a chair alongside the bed.

“I just mean...everyone said you were dead,” Draco said hoarsely, grimacing a little as he tried to sit up, but the pain was too great and he slumped back against the pillows again with a defeated sigh. “How did you survive?” He asked, his voice weak in his shock and from riding out the latest wave of pain. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, decided that it was not time for me to leave this plane of existence quite yet, and came to my aid,” Severus explained smoothly, “had it not been for Potter's testimony on my behalf, I would be in a cell alongside your father. Instead, Potter and his band of worshippers presented me with an Order of Merlin, First Class, and enough gold to enable me to permanently retire.” Severus finished, and pressed the goblet into Draco's hands. “Drink this, it should help with the pain.”

Draco accepted the goblet, and Severus rested his hand at the back of Draco's head to help him stay propped up as he drank the foul concoction. Severus took back the goblet and offered Draco the water, which he drained half of in one. He eased back against the pillows with a soft sigh, and closed his eyes as he felt some of the ache recede.

“I am sorry Draco,” Severus said, and Draco opened his eyes focusing his attention on the older man as he spoke, “I have not been in contact with anyone—not ex-colleagues or students. Now is not the safest time to be a known Slytherin Alumni, as you have no doubt learnt.”

“My forays into the muggle world, as you say, have lulled me into a false sense of security,” Draco replied, shifting his gaze from his ex-professor to the bedspread. “I had quite forgotten how mistrusted we are these days.”

A hand on Draco's arm drew him from the hazy memories of his attack, and he looked up at Severus, uncaring that the older man would be able to see the fear and misery painted all over his face. He was tired of being a Malfoy, tired of shielding all his emotions behind a mask of haughty elegance, tired of it all. For once in his life, Draco wanted to be able to feel something, and not feel guilty about it afterwards.

“Though it may be difficult to believe, things will be all right, Draco. In the years following the Dark Lord's downfall the first time, things were very much the same. We were treated as dangers to society. Mistrusted. Many of my Slytherin fellows could not find work, even those who had absolutely nothing to do with the war. It was a dark time in those first years tenuous of peace. As with all things however, this too shall pass,” Severus murmured, more emotion in his voice than Draco had ever heard from him whilst at school or during that harrowing year that had followed Dumbledore's death. A long-fingered, elegant hand moved to brush Draco's cheek, a touch of reassurance, then he pressed a vial of Dreamless Sleep into his hand. “Rest, I will be in later to check on you.”

Draco nodded, and pushed back the surprising, fluttering sensation that Severus touch had caused, and he obediently downed the potion.

 

The next time Draco woke he felt well enough to sit up on his own, and Severus brought him a tray of simple fare—porridge with treacle and tea, along with another round of potions.

“Seems a bit excessive for a stabbing injury,” he remarked as he knocked back the potion and grimaced at the sulphuric taste, then quickly rinsed his mouth out with a glass of water that Severus offered him.

“That delightful stomach wound you are sporting is not merely a stabbing injury, you foolish young man,” Severus said, rolling his eyes, “it is a hex designed to keep the wounds from closing naturally, and so the only thing keeping your organs in your body at all is that bandage and my brews. It will likely be another day or two before the potions will force the hex to break.”

“I see,” Draco looked down at his half-eaten meal, and grimaced a little. Who would go to such lengths just for revenge? _I would_ , Draco thought at once, and he winced. _No, not anymore. I'm not_ him _anymore._

Draco shook his head a little in an effort to clear his mind, and he looked back up to Severus, who had been watching him eat intently.

“Have you contacted my mother?” He asked conversationally, and Severus inclined his head once.

“She came to see you while you were sleeping, she is quite distraught, but pleased that it was I who found you. As for your attackers, they are in holding cells at Azkaban awaiting trial, and an infuriatingly persistent Mr Potter has been pestering me endlessly for permission to question you. He seemed convinced that any other Auror handling your case might be prejudiced, and would not accurately take down your statement.”

“Paranoid fucker,” Draco grumbled as he sipped his tea thoughtfully. He saw Severus smirk out of the corner of his eye.

“Indeed.”

 

~*~

  

The interview with Potter was much less painful than Draco had expected it to be, though he still found it distinctly odd to see Harry Potter acting like something even remotely resembling an adult.

Draco was sitting up in bed, reading a book his mother had brought over for him when Potter stopped in, dressed in the trademark blue-grey Auror robes, but he still managed to look like a gawky sixth-year compared to Severus, who was following closely behind.

“Hey Malfoy,” he said with a weak smile, while Draco closed his book and set it aside.

“Potter,” he replied coolly as Potter took a seat next to the bed.

“Er, Professor Snape briefed me on the hexes used against you already, so I just need you to tell me what you remember of your attack,” he said while he pulled out a quill and scroll of parchment as he spoke. Draco glanced up to Severus, who nodded once, and with a heavy sigh Draco thought back to that fateful day.

“I was walking home from Calliope's Apothecary, one of the wizarding shops in London not situated in Diagon Alley—which I can no longer access due to my lack of wand—when I was ambushed by two hooded and cloaked men,” Draco said in a monotonous voice while he stared at his knees. He hated that he'd been so completely incapable of protecting himself, and he hated that he had to admit it to _Potter_ of all people.

“They hit me with some sort of slicing hex, and then one of them started going off about their younger sibling that they'd lost during the war. They said—they said that they would make me wish that they'd killed me. Not long after that Severus stepped in and stopped them, but I don't remember much of my rescue—I was fairly incoherent by then,” Draco finished and looked back up, and he was grateful to see that Potter was regarding him with a calm, professional look, without the faintest trace of sympathy in his gaze. This came to Draco as a relief—the last thing he wanted was to be pitied by _him._

“That's all you remember?” Potter asked, and Draco bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from spitting out a scathing remark. Hadn't he _just_ told Potter as much? Draco crossed his arms tightly across his chest he nodded once, and Potter rolled up the scroll with a faint smile. “All right then, I'll write you if I have any follow-up questions, yeah?”

“Fine,” Draco replied with a grimace, and Potter regarded him for a moment longer, as though he wanted to say something, but at the last moment he seemed to think better of it, stood up, and Severus promptly escorted him out. Draco listened to the low thrum of their voices—surprisingly with little bite from Severus—as they drew farther away before they faded into silence.

 

The attack was something Draco had been trying to not think about; it was too recent, and the shame of it it burned in him viciously. Potter's questions, though brief, easily brought back all his feelings towards the attack to the forefront of his mind, and a wave of misery crashed over him.

 _If I'd had my wand, I could have fought back..._ Draco thought as he drew his knees up to his chest, the residual damage from the stomach wound twinging as he moved, but he ignored it while he wrapped his arms around his legs and pressed his forehead against the top of his thighs. Tears stung his eyes, and he breathed deeply in an effort to quell them. He wasn't weak; _he wasn't_.

But the truth of the matter was that he _was_ weak. That simple realization hurt him more than those nameless thugs ever could. Weak in body, weak in mind, weak in spirit. Draco inhaled sharply, but the tears refused to recede, and they dripped from his chin, leaving dark spots on the top of the duvet.

If he'd been stronger, he could have said _no_ to The Dark Lord.

If he'd been stronger, he could have fought against him, not for him.

If he had been stronger, he could have trusted Dumbledore enough to let him help, instead of letting his fear control him.

 

Draco hiccoughed, but like a bursting dam, now that he'd started, he felt as though he couldn't stop. Draco's arms loosened from around his legs and they dropped to the mattress, stretched out before him as he cupped his face in his hands. At almost the same moment he felt a pair of arms encircle him, though he could not recall hearing the door open, signalling the older man's return. Draco clung to Severus, well beyond caring what his former head of house thought of him at that moment as Draco buried his face in his chest and wept openly.

Severus's hand ran up and down his back, and he held Draco gently, but firmly, as though he was trying to share his strength with the younger man. Draco hiccoughed again, and his sobs slowly dropped in volume until they faded completely, but he could not bring himself to let Severus go. In many ways, it felt as though Severus was the only thing tethering him to this plane of existence.

“I'm—I'm sorry, Severus,” Draco muttered into his shoulder, though he still felt incapable of letting him go, “I just...why is this so hard?”

Severus lifted a hand to Draco's hair, and stroked it gently. The tenderness of the action was a little strange coming from such a standoffish man, but welcome, and Draco relaxed into his touch.

“You were handed the world, and it was taken away just as quickly,” Severus murmured softly, “you were forced into situations no child should ever have to face. It wasn't your fault, but many people do not know that, nor do they care to. To them, you are merely another Death Eater that got away.”

Severus's hand fell to Draco's inner forearm; he tensed, but did not pull away as Severus peeled pack the pyjama sleeve, exposing what was left of his Dark Mark. An ugly scar, a jagged line pulled taut, as though the mark had collapsed in on itself. Severus's fingertips trailed over the scar, and Draco felt his stomach somersault at the sensation. His breath caught a little, and Severus moved again to pull down the sleeve of his black turtleneck, exposing his own mark, and pressed it against Draco's.

“It is not all we are, Draco.”

  

~*~

  

As the days passed, Draco's strength steadily returned to him. His mother visited him often, and despite his reclaimed mobility, he was reluctant to leave Severus's side and go home.

“My dear,” Narcissa said one afternoon as she sat across from Draco in Severus's sitting room. Fine flecks of snow drifted past the window, and her hands cradled a cup of sweet tea, “you're well, why not come home, at the very least for Christmas? You have nothing to fear, those men were sentenced to ten years in Azkaban for their attack on you, and no one else is out for our blood.” Her silver gaze lifted to meet Draco's, and she was sporting her cool mask of indifference, a sure indicator to Draco that she was desperately missing his presence at home. The look made him feel marginally guilty about continuing to stay with Severus, but the idea of leaving still made him quake with fear. He too had quite forgotten the upcoming holiday—Severus had never been one for festive decorations—but still Draco felt his stomach twist with fear at the idea of leaving Severus's side so soon after everything.

“Mother, I—” Draco paused, and looked towards the door, but Severus was nowhere to be seen. When he turned back to his mother, she was sporting a faint, knowing smile.

“Are you in love with him, Draco?”

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and Draco felt a flush creep up his neck his name at the implication. In _love_ with Severus Snape? Where on earth had his mother gotten such an idea?

“Large age gaps between partners is not uncommon,” she continued, ignoring her son's shock at her question. “Severus is a fine man, and a brave one. I would welcome a partnership between you two. If your father were here he would likely protest the lack of heirs from such a marriage, but after everything...” she shook her head and levelled her gaze with her son's. “Draco, you deserve to be happy. I am willing to sacrifice the Malfoy line and everything I hold dear just to see you smile again.”

“Mother, I...” Draco cut himself off again and shook his head a little when her smile did not waver. “I believe that you are reading too much into this. I am grateful for Severus saving my life, and I am still somewhat shaky from everything that has happened, but I am not _in love_ with the man.”

Draco felt a flush creep up his cheeks when his mother did not respond beyond a slightly widening smile.

  

~*~

  

His mother had left for home some three hours ago, but Draco had yet to move from his spot on the sofa. He cradled a fourth cup of tea in his hands, and he stared dazedly into the fire.

 _Did_ he love Severus?

They had history, certainly, Severus had been there for him when no one else was, but _love_?

Draco thought back to the days he'd spent in the man's care, those little touches, nothing out of the ordinary about them, but how they had made his heart _soar_.

He raked his fingers through his hair, and leant back against the sofa's cushions with a heavy sigh. Such emotion complicated things. For once in his life he did not wish to take advantage of the kindness he'd been given, and instead he felt determined to do right by Severus—whatever that may be.

 

A hand upon Draco's shoulder drew him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Severus standing over him. He bit his bottom lip while Severus regarded him with a steady, even gaze.

“I have to wonder why it is that you feel more comfortable here than in your own home. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, certainly your mother has expressed her desire to have you return home for the holiday?”

“She has...” Draco replied with a nod, “I just...I feel safer here with you, Severus.”

Severus circled the sofa and sat next to Draco. Draco watched him silently, and his breath caught as Severus reached out, a single long finger tracing the curve of Draco's jaw before he leant forward until he was scant millimetres from him, his hand lightly cradling his pointed chin.

“And what about my presence makes you feel safe?” he murmured, arching a brow.

Draco stared at Severus, all but forgetting to breathe, and it took several seconds for the question he'd posed to sink in.

“I feel like nothing can touch me when you're near,” Draco replied at last, and felt his face heat at the breathless quality of his voice. “You're always there to save me. You're just...always there.”

The cool calculation of his inherently Slytherin traits dissolved around him, the weight of comparing his chances of success and failure did not have a chance to enter his mind as Draco threw it all aside to close the distance between them as Draco pressed his lips against Severus's.

Draco did not know what he had expected from such a bold action; perhaps rejection, a snide remark, or one of Severus's trademark cutting insults, but to his surprise, he received none of those things. In fact, Severus responded in the one way Draco has not anticipated in the least.

Severus kissed him back.

As with all things, Severus's kisses were exceptional.

Draco melted into the contact, the feel and smell of the older man enveloped him, and Draco inched nearer until he was all but perched in the older man's lap. Severus rested his hands on Draco's hips, and Draco let out a soft, needy moan at the contact. Severus chuckled, and drew back from the kiss slowly while he regarded the young man in his lap. There was a darkness in his gaze that hadn't been there before, and his mouth stretched into a familiar, Slytherin smirk.

“Do you _still_ feel safe with me, Draco?” he purred, and Draco felt his trousers tighten uncomfortably as he stared down at Severus. The words made his breath hitch, and Draco answered by leaning in and kissing him again.

Severus's hands travelled up Draco's spine, one burying itself in Draco's hair, the other rested against the nape of his neck to massage the tense muscle there. Draco groaned softly, and arched his hips forward, and was startled when he felt a distinctive hardness press back into him. Though he did not doubt Severus's attraction to him—if his response to his kisses had been anything to go by—but to be affected this strongly by them had come as something of a surprise. Draco did not waste this new discovery however, and rotated his hips, eliciting a soft groan from his partner.

“How long have you wanted this?” Draco purred against Severus's mouth as they broke the kiss. Severus chuckled, and moved one of his large hands to cup Draco's cheek in his hand.

“Since that night I dragged you off from Horace Slughorn's asinine Christmas Party. Your fire made me want to bend you over a desk and take you right there. Does that shock you?” Severus asked, arching a brow at him, and Draco laughed at the question.

“Not at all. It's just as well that you didn't, considering our audience that night,” Draco said, alluding to the fact that they were being spied on by a certain irritating boy-hero that night. Even now, Draco regretted not hexing him for that. Had Potter serious thought that he was being sneaky?

“Hmm, this is true,” Severus replied while he observed Draco with a hungry gaze, both his hands fell to rest upon the young man's thighs, and they slowly began to inch higher. “We do not have an audience now, you realize.”

“Oh I'm well aware,” Draco purred, and he leant back in to kiss Severus again.

Without breaking the kiss, Severus shifted his position, lifted Draco up bridal style with a squeak of surprise from the blond, but he quickly relaxed into the kiss again as Severus confidently carried him down the hall and to his bedroom.

Draco tumbled down onto the bedspread with Severus above him, his breathing already laboured as he gazed up at the older man, the trousers he wore left positively nothing to the imagination, and Severus stared at his groin for a long moment, and then pressed the heel of his hand into it, eliciting a soft moan from Draco while he bucked weakly into the contact.

“Do you want this, Draco?” Severus purred, and Draco almost laughed at the question.

“What do you think?” he asked with an arched brow, and Severus chuckled in response as he swooped in for another kiss.

Draco's hands reached up immediately to fiddle with the buttons on the older man's robes, and he broke the kiss in order to watch Draco work, watching him with the same critical eye he would during a Potions lesson, which made it even more difficult to focus, when his cock positively _ached_ under the intense, withering stare.

Draco's hands shook slightly as he struggled to stay focused on his task, but Severus's intense stare made it difficult to do so, and he caved in several times to his desire and paused what he was doing to arch up for another mind-numbing kiss.

At long last, the final button was freed from its confines, and Severus's black shirt hung open, exposing to Draco a line of fair skin dotted with sparse, wiry black hairs. Draco reached up to push the shirt away from his shoulders, but Severus caught Draco's hand in his and their fingers laced together automatically. He stared down at Draco with an intense, unreadable expression. Severus moved Draco's hand to the left side of his chest and pressed his palm against it, Severus's hand resting atop it while he continued to stare down at his partner.

At first, Draco was uncertain what Severus was doing, but after a moment's confusion it became very clear that he was trying to show Draco his emotions towards this, as though he felt incapable of expressing it any other way.

Beneath Draco's fingers, he could feel the fast, steady thrum of the older man's heartbeat, nervous anticipation, while he regarded Draco with lidded eyes, almost as though he did not trust Draco to treat this as more than a pity fuck or a one night stand. It couldn't be something so crude, not in Draco's mind at least, but the dark look in Severus's eyes told him that he wasn't letting himself believe that. It broke Draco's heart that the man could not believe that someone would want him for more than just what he could _do_ for them. For a moment, he was struck silent, while he stared up at the older man and forced his pity behind a blank mask.

In an effort to quell the older man's insecurities, Draco arched up and kissed Severus gently.

“You are beautiful, Severus,” Draco whispered, “you are the bravest, strongest, and most intelligent man I have ever met. How could I _not_ fall for you?”

“I have a lifetime of anecdotal evidence that could illustrate that fact quite easily,” he said dryly, and Draco shook his head.

“I want you,” Draco said firmly, and leant up to kiss him again. “I want you to take me, fuck me until I cannot walk anymore, and then I want you to promise that you won't drop me like a stone on Boxing Day.”

“You share many characteristics with a limpet, do you realize that?” Severus asked with a cocked eyebrow, and Draco chuckled softly.

“And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“You cling to things and don't let go.”

“Like this?” Draco asked, and reached down to squeeze Severus's blatant erection through his trousers, and Severus let out a groan at the contact.

“You've become rather crude in your young adult life,” Severus observed, but Draco didn't respond verbally and chose to kiss Severus instead.

Severus returned the kiss with matching verve and desire, and Draco reached up to push the shirt off his fair shoulders. Severus took over when the sleeves had bunched at his elbows, and pulled it the rest of the way off.

Draco moaned out loud as Severus's hands travelled down to thumb open the buttons of Draco's silk shirt. Draco wiggled out of a little too quickly, which made his impatience for their encounter to progress even more obvious.

Severus's breath seemed to catch as he took in the sight of Draco's naked upper body. He felt his cheeks and neck grow warm at the intense way Severus stared at him, and shivered a little as the older man reached forward, mapping the contours of his lean muscle with feather-light touches, almost as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

“Severus...” Draco keened, and the man's large hands slid slowly to the buttons on the front of his trousers, and popped them open quickly. Draco lifted his hips off the bed to aid in their removal, but Severus left his silk pants in place. Draco whimpered softly, his aching cock straining against the thin fabric, but Severus seemed quite content to ignore the younger man's pleading in favour of teasing him instead.

Severus's thin lips fell to close over Draco's right nipple, his sharp tongue circling the erect nub, while one hand braced against his hip and massaged it gently. Draco groaned and arched into the contact, and Severus switched sides, teasing Draco's other nipple much in the same way.

Ever so slowly, Severus migrated south from his nipples, licking and kissing his way down to the waistband of the remaining garment, and stopped.

Draco groaned, though this time it was a sound of frustration and not pleasure.

“For the love of all that is holy if you don't get on with it I swear I'll hex you into next week,” Draco growled, and Severus chuckled softly.

“Considering you have no wand that would be quite a feat,” Severus replied, and laughed again when his words were met with a stony glare.

Smirking up at Draco, Severus leant back down and sunk his teeth into the waistband of the garment, and with Draco arching his hips to help him, he dragged them off of him, then tossed it to the floor.

Draco's flagging cock sprung up at once, a pearly bead of precome perched upon the tip, and Severus regarded it like some sort of delectable meal. He did not look up at Draco, but focused his attention entirely upon the organ not two inches from his face, without waiting, he closed his hot mouth over the tip.

Draco let out a soft groan, his hips twitching at the delicious sensation, but he need for haste was impeded somewhat by Severus's large hand at his hip pinning him in place. He groaned again, this time in frustration as Severus refused to give in to his silent demands to go faster, and instead very slowly inched Draco's cock into his waiting mouth.

“Damn it Severus just get on with it already,” Draco growled, and he hissed when he felt a vibration run over his cock when the older man chuckled in response to his demand.

Severus deliberately slowed his pace, and Draco let out another whine of mingled arousal and frustration.

When Severus had at last swallowed Draco's cock to the root, his cheeks at once hollowed to create a delightful suction around the organ. Draco's previous frustrations to fizzled out in an instant and were replaced by pure bliss at the sensation of his cock in Severus Snape's incredibly talented mouth.

“Gnh, _Severus..._ ” Draco moaned, his words coming out in a jumble of nonsensical vocalizations as Severus began to bob his head, whilst the hand that was not holding Draco down moved to play with his balls and brush his long fingers along his inner thighs. The attentions were too much for Draco, and he reached down and palmed at Severus's shoulder in an effort to warn him that he was close, but Severus ignored his warnings and brought him to orgasm with a sharp cry, and swallowed his release without even batting an eyelash.

Severus was on him again and kissing him deeply before Draco even came down from his post-orgasm high, and he groaned into the kiss, spent, but revelling in the taste of himself in Severus's mouth.

Severus pulled back slightly, his eyes lidded and his desire written all over his face so plainly it almost made Draco laugh. It was something of a new experience for him to be wanted in this way, and he was deeply enjoying how it made him feel.

“You are...exquisite, Draco,” Severus murmured as his lifted a hand to brush his thumb along Draco's cheek. Draco felt his cheeks colour, unused to such praise, and when he found himself at a loss for how to respond verbally, he arched up and brushed his lips across Severus's in a gentle kiss.

“I want you to make love to me,” Draco said softly, his voice shaking ever so slightly when he reached the word _love_. “I—I don't want to be _fucked_.”

“Your wish is my command,” Severus responded in the same soft tone, and leant in for another kiss. “Draco, are you a virgin?”

Draco's flush became more pronounced, but he didn't answer. That seemed to be telling enough however, Severus reached for his night table with a faint smirk on his face, but didn't speak. He pulled a squat jar from the top drawer, and the sight of the lubricant made the situation feel all the more real, and Draco was caught between nervousness and near-blinding arousal. He wanted this, but he could not help the faint tendril of fear that snaked its way into his mind.

Severus attended to his anxieties at once. He set aside the little jar and bowed forward to kiss Draco gently.

“I will not hurt you, Draco,” he said simply, and Draco, who had never openly and completely trusted another soul in his life (save perhaps his mother), found himself readily accepting Severus's sentiment, and nodded his head once.

One hand on Draco's hip, Severus slowly coaxed the young man onto his stomach, and grabbed a pillow to press under his hips, while Draco listened to the telltale scrape of the the jar's lid unscrewing.

Severus's large hand rested against his right buttock and Draco tensed involuntarily. The hand moved to the small of Draco's back and rubbed the tense muscles it found there. Severus shifted up to press a kiss between Draco's shoulder blades.

“Relax,” Severus whispered, “it will be all right, Draco.”

Draco allowed his head to drop forward, but his heart still stuttered nervously in his chest in spite of Severus's reassurance. He nodded a little, and he felt the bed shift again as Severus moved his attention back to his arse.

Cool, gel-slicked fingers brushed against Draco's tight virgin entrance, and a solitary finger breached the ring of muscle, causing Draco's breath to hitch slightly. Severus continued as though Draco had not reacted until his finger was buried in his arse to the knuckle. It felt a little strange, but not exactly unpleasant.

That was, until Severus curled his finger forward in a _come hither_ motion, and Draco saw stars.

“Oh... _God..._ ” he breathed, and he heard Severus chuckle behind him.

Severus retracted the solitary finger, and Draco whimpered at the loss, but he heard the distinctive rustle of the older man at last discarding his trousers, and after a moment Draco felt Severus's erection brush against his hole.

The faint touch made the situation feel even more real to Draco, and his breath hitched as he felt Severus take his hip in one hand and position himself with the other. He paused to brush another kiss to the space between Draco's shoulder blades in silent reassurance, and in between soft breaths to calm him himself down, he nodded his head weakly. Severus began to push his cock in, and Draco tensed both in minor pain and knee-jerk nervousness.

“Shh, shh, Draco,” Severus murmured, and ran his open palm down his spine, “it's all right—you're all right, just relax.”With a soft whimper he nodded meekly, and dropped his head forward again. Severus pushed in further, and a second whine escaped him before he could stop it. Why had he wanted this? Draco wondered, it _hurt._

Severus continued to rub his back and whisper soft words of reassurance, but no matter what he said, Draco felt almost incapable of shaking off his fear at the low thrum of burning pain that accompanied the sensation of Severus breaching his virgin rectum.

Draco could hear Severus's haggard breathing from somewhere above him as he struggled to keep from moving too fast, and continued to whisper soft words of encouragement as he continued to slide in. After what felt like hours (though in reality it couldn't have been more than a minute) Severus was fully sheathed in Draco's arse, and he bowed forward to press his chest into Draco's back, and brushed a gentle kiss against the back of his neck.

“Are you all right Draco?” he murmured, and he nodded shakily. It hurt, but now some of the burn had begun to fade, and his body seemed to recall its own arousal, and he felt pleasantly full, if decidedly _odd_.

“I'm all right,” he breathed, his skin dotted with sweat.

Severus didn't seem to believe him, and remained still for several moments longer, while his hands massaged his shoulders, his tongue outlined the shape of his neck, all the while still holding him flush against his chest.

At long last Severus began to move, and he carefully adjusted his angle, and once more he brushed _that spot._

Draco quite forgot that there had been any pain at all.

The contact elicited a groan from Draco, and he backed into the gentle thrust of Severus's cock, and Severus chuckled softly, but didn't speak on it as he helped Draco find a rhythm, and he (somewhat awkwardly) moved with Severus, and each thrust was met with another pleasured groan. His face was deeply flushed, his breaths were escaping him in short gasps, and he ground his cock down against the pillow beneath him in an effort to garner some sort of friction.

Draco let out a soft yelp as the pillow was abruptly yanked out from under him, and Severus's hand coiled at once around his weeping cock.

The touch of Severus's hand alone was almost enough to bring him to orgasm right then, but Draco managed to hold out for several pulls before he came with a cry, his seed painting the duvet beneath him.

Draco was so lost in the haze of his own orgasm that he rather missed when Severus had reached the same state, and suddenly he found himself being pulled down, spooned in Severus's arms while Severus used his wand to clean up the mess before he drew the covers over the pair of them.

They lay together quietly for several minutes. Draco was still panting harshly, and he fleetingly wondered if maybe such physical exertion so soon after the injuries he'd sustained had been a good idea, but in the same train of thought, he realized that he didn't care. Carefully, he rolled over, and Severus pulled him close. His arm was wound around his waist, and Draco bowed his head forward to rest his head against the older man's chest. In this position, it almost felt like Severus was a shield— _his_ shield—protecting him from the dangers of the wide world.

And he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

“I think I might love you,” Draco whispered softly, and Severus chuckled softly. His hand moved from Draco waist to rest under his chin, tilting his head up so that he could kiss him. Draco returned it immediately.

“I know,” Severus purred, and pulled Draco close again. “And I you.”

 

-Fin


End file.
